


Good Omens: Prompt Fic: When In Rome

by Writer_of_Words88



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Ancient Rome, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Fear of Death, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic, Protective Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-01 01:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_of_Words88/pseuds/Writer_of_Words88
Summary: Aziraphale had to get back. He had to help them. The scholars needed him. So many books; now, they were nothing more than ash swirling in the wind. He coughed again and fell to his knees. As an angel, shouldn’t he have been able to do more? He should’ve been able to help them. The fire danced around him, eager to devour everything in its path, yet as he stared, it howled into the abyss around him, setting its sights on the winged bibliophile.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85
Collections: Hurt Omens





	Good Omens: Prompt Fic: When In Rome

**Author's Note:**

> This is from @smudgeandfrank prompt from Instagram. It was too good to not write a little fun of my own!
> 
> Good Omens FanFic Timeline:  
Pre-Canon:  
The Pharaoh’s Son – Egypt 14th Century BC  
An Angel in the Brothel – Pompeii 62 AD  
A Long Way from a Miracle – Italy 217 AD  
Christmas Special: The Church of Saint Crowley – Turkey 300 AD  
The Devil’s Favor – England 1066 AD  
War Times – England 1941 AD
> 
> Post-Canon:  
The Bachelor Party – 2019 AD
> 
> Separate GO AU FanFic:  
Halloween Special: Sleepy Hollow (Human AU)  
Ineffable Prompts  
Instagram Prompt

Aziraphale coughed from the thick tendrils of smoke closing in around him. He pressed on, despite the pain, wandering through the haze of charred debris. The air stung his eyes, appearing eager to blind him. It fought to steal his hope, his faith, and everything that had shielded him or protected him in the past. His mind groped for a reason, an explanation of his smoldering surroundings. 

“The library,” he said with a gasp and stumbled forward. 

Aziraphale had to get back. He had to help them. The scholars needed him. So many books; now, they were nothing more than ash swirling in the wind. He coughed again and fell to his knees. As an angel, shouldn’t he have been able to do more? He should’ve been able to help them. The fire danced around him, eager to devour everything in its path, yet as he stared, it howled into the abyss around him, setting its sights on the winged bibliophile. 

Flames sprung for him, eager to rip him from the world. It would be more than a mere discorporation, it would be…death. He threw himself to the side, dodging the raging crimson heat. 

Fear poisoned his thoughts, letting panic nest like spiders in his mind. Had he? Had he Fallen? Aziraphale’s lip trembled. The maze of scorching heat and flame that surrounded him made him wonder if he had strayed, strayed from his holy path, the sacred light. He had always tried to do good. He had always tried to help those in need, but his mind drifted back to a flaming sword, and to a particular golden-eyed demon that had shown him more kindness than anything in Heaven. He bit his lip, trying to peer through the ash and smoke. If Heaven had thought him a traitor, then Crowley could be in danger too. Even if they had condemned Aziraphale to his fiery fate, then he needed to do what he could for the closest person he considered to be a friend. 

“Aziraphale,” words whispered in the wind. 

The angel’s head snapped up. He knew that voice. He knew that darker sensation that accompanied it. Not necessarily a bad one, though its owner would argue otherwise. “Crowley!” Aziraphale glanced around, trying to see through the billowing waves of smoke and flame. “Where are you? I can’t see you.” 

“Aziraphale.”

He stood, despite his shaking legs, and stumbled forward. “I’m here,” Aziraphale called, glancing around him. “Please, dear. I’m here. Where are you?”

“Azira–”

The angel began to run. But as he did, his feet sank into the ground. The hard stone of the earth beneath him split, spilling bubbling black muck. He flinched from the assaulting smell of the ooze. It clung to his body, ready to drag him down. His fingers dug into the softening earth around him as the smoke thickened, threatening to finish what the fire had failed to do. “I’m here!”

Flames sprang up, surrounding him again, and halted his advance. It slithered closer, roaring to greet the angel as he tried to escape. Aziraphale cried out as heat prickled his skin, dangerously close to scorching his flesh. 

Aziraphale scurried back, kicking at the insatiable hunger of his inky fate. He snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. 

The flames glided closer, forcing him back. Aziraphale slipped and fell backward. “Crowley. Crowley!”

Waves of fire lunged forward, and Aziraphale screamed. 

Agony seared his flesh, jolting up through his body. Aziraphale cradled his arm. He could sense the fire still burning under his skin as it snaked its way through his veins, heading for his heart. It _would_ destroy him. He rolled to his side, trembling, and his mind swam with too much pain to concentrate. Aziraphale groaned as the fire scorched further up his veins. He didn’t have much time. The bubbling muck slid over his body, pulling him below into its swallowing darkness.

If he really was to Fall, he wished, if angels could do such a thing, that he could’ve seen those slitted golden eyes just one last time. 

“Crowley, I’m…I’m so sorry…to leave you like this.”

Slime rolled over his body, dragging out his doubts and fears to terrorize his mind. One of his fears showed Crowley, cornered by the archangels of Heaven and Aziraphale, gritted his teeth. For him, he wouldn’t give up because he knew Crowley would never give up on him. 

He cringed as the fire ebbed closer to his heart. Aziraphale had to fight, had to free himself. But how?

Yet, as his frantic mind worked, the pain lessened. Aziraphale’s eyes shot open. His mind couldn’t focus. The fire inside shivered and squirmed as something yanked it away. 

“Crowley,” he wheezed. “I need…to find him.” Aziraphale sighed as his skin cooled. The searing heat eased away, and, despite the lingering pain, he breathed, sucking in a ragged breath. 

He was still alive. He winced as the pain continued to radiate from his arm, but he knew as long as the fire would stay away, he would survive, he would see Crowley again. 

Aziraphale shifted, forcing his eyes open. A stone wall blurred into his sight. It had been a dream, he realized, then winced. At least part of it had been. A dark blanket covered his body, and he realized he was resting in a bed. His head and arm ached, though were noticeably more bearable than before. Someone had saved him. Someone had come for him in the library.

“The library!”

Aziraphale yelped in pain as he rolled, sitting up in the bed. He had to get back; he had to save them. He…was met by three sets of curious eyes.

A few children sat on the floor near the bed, staring up at him. 

“Oh, hello.” Aziraphale tried to give them a pleasant smile. He cradled his arm, still fighting back the waves of throbbing anguish. “Where…where am I?”

The young girl gazed at him with eyes much more keen than her years. “You’re Aziraphale. I remember you from the library. My father spoke of you all the time. You must have been there during the fire. I’m sure my father is alive because of you, so thank you.”

He blinked down at her in surprise. “Of course, um, sorry. I really have no idea where I am.”

The door across the room banged opened and in stepped a wonderfully familiar demon with armloads of bread. “Aziraphale! You’re awake. Have you met our kids? Little hellraisers, they are.”

Aziraphale paused, but forced himself to his feet, clenching his jaw against the pain. 

“We…we have kids? How long have I been asleep?”

“About a day. And yeah, meet Curls, Hammerhead, and Rockstar. Kids say, ‘hi.’”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrow. “I don’t think that is their names, dear.”

Crowley shrugged and closed the door behind him. “Close enough.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t have been worried about you with an army like this at your disposal.” He smiled at the children.

Crowley sauntered forward with the few loaves of bread and raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who repeatedly ran into a burning building, and you thought I was the one to worry about? Angel, we need to talk about you and your priorities sometime.” He tossed the bread to the kids.

Aziraphale staggered around them toward the smirking demon.

Crowley’s eyes widened, and he hurried forward, grabbing his shoulders. “Stop moving around, you idiot. You need to rest. Come on.” 

“Really, my dear. I’m fine.” He tried to hide his wince, but it only made Crowley’s eyes narrow further at him. Aziraphale sighed in defeat and allowed himself to be guided back to the bed. “Oh, alright. Just…please explain the, um…” He waved at the tiny humans sitting together on the floor. “Why do we have, um, children now? I didn’t know we were adopting.”

“Well,” Crowley said with a wink, easing him onto the bedside. “I always thought we’d make wonderful fathers. Or, at least, well, godfathers.”

“So, they are _not_ ours?”

Crowley smiled down at him and pulled the covers over him again. “Don’t sound too disappointed, angel. But they do need our help.”

“Oh, well, where do we start?”

Crowley hesitated, then eased his hand over Aziraphale’s. “You need to rest first. And,” he paused, and Aziraphale could feel his hand trembling. “Don’t go scaring me like that again. I won’t forgive you a second time. I mean it. You’re not allowed to…” His eyes cast down, and Aziraphale’s breath caught. 

The angel had never expected to see such care glisten in Crowley’s downcast gaze. Each droplet that clung to his eyes seemed to bear the weight of incalculable guilt and sorrow. 

Aziraphale knew they had come to some kind of understanding in the past. They didn’t get in each other’s way when it came to work. They didn’t try to recruit the other, but they also, most certainly, did not let slip the shadows of truth they felt for one another. For Crowley to let his guard down as he was, could only mean Aziraphale’s dream, his proximity to his true death had probably been much closer than he wanted to admit. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” Aziraphale adjusted and squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean to worry you so. I was careless,” he paused, lowering his gaze. “Can you forgive me?”

Crowley answered without hesitation. “Always, angel. Always.”


End file.
